


Under Storm Clouds

by Mochirimi



Series: Bederia Week 2020 [2]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Sword & Shield | Pokemon Sword & Shield Versions
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bederia Week, Bederia Week Day 2, Dressed in Pink Shipping, F/M, Feelings Of Love, bederia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-19 07:24:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22873960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mochirimi/pseuds/Mochirimi
Summary: Lost in the rain, Bede has his first taste of love.Feb 23 | Day Two: Feelings of love.
Relationships: Beet | Bede/Yuuri | Gloria
Series: Bederia Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1642840
Comments: 8
Kudos: 36





	Under Storm Clouds

**Author's Note:**

> Somehow I (barely) finished this on time, but it's done!   
> This fic was cut shorter than it was originally outlined to be, but I hope you enjoy it anyways~

It begins with one single drop, followed by one more. And one more after that. The dark gray sky breathes in one single lonely sigh. And then it all falls apart. It’s the sound of a distant heart breaking. Shattered and refracted into distant memories, and new scenes, every drop is a panoramic merry-go-round of color plummeting towards the oblivion and shadow of stone and asphalt.

And Bede is caught in it, unprepared.

When he runs under a shop awning to escape the sudden downpour, he’s soaked from head to toe, water clinging with every ounce of strength to his silver-blonde curls, droplets sliding down the ringlet locks, diving downward on the end towards empty space. The water hugs and rolls down his magenta sleeves, staining the material darker, and in his soaked cocoon, he shivers, frowns, and bemoans his luck. 

Running errands for the old gran was never his idea of fun. But when Opal hands him a scrawled list of ingredients for him to fetch in Hammerlocke, he had no reason to protest other than the fact _he just didn’t want to_. Excuses like that, however, never sat well under the old gran’s stewardship and so, tight-lipped and obliging, he walked out the door with her list tucked safely in his pocket.

Wiping the water from his face, Bede pulls out the list now. The ink on the paper bleeds across the words, smearing definitions down disintegrating paper and he can’t make out a single thing that was.

Perfect.

Water puddles on the uneven pavement, splashing upwards on impact and settles into ripples and waves across the stones. The air is awash with the scent of earth, the coming of spring. There is no breeze, but the air hums with the expectation of something indiscernible.

And then she’s there. With the sound of a shop bell tinkle, a girl stands down the lone street, her palm outstretched to catch the raindrops. As the droplets slide through her fingers, her eyes brighten. A small smile graces her lips as she undoes the bow of her apron, pulling off one loafer after another, and tossing every article of clothing over her shoulder.

She flits away from the protection of her own shop awning, dancing across the pavement to the very center of the stoned pavement. Her movements are uncoordinated as she rotates in a clumsy circle, her face and arms outstretched to the raining sky. She moves as if there’s a song only she can hear.

The scene feels so intimate, as if Bede just walked into something not meant to be seen by anyone, let alone a complete stranger. He averts his eyes as she splashes in the shallow puddles, the sound of her laughter like silk running across his skin.

And all too quickly the moment ends, the shop bell calling for her as her coworker does. “Glo, cut it out. I need you inside!” His tone lifts with a practiced sigh.

The girl, “Glo” shakes her head, the locks of her bob whipping droplets in every direction as she retreats back to the cover of the café awning. Her coworker tosses her a towel as she reaches the entrance of the shop. Rubbing the white towel through her hair, she smiles in self-satisfaction and returns to the golden glow inside.

After she retreats, her absence leaves the empty street muted, darker and quieter than before she entered. Bede casts his eyes to the sky, gray clouds heavy and dark and rain falling without any indication of stopping, before turning his eyes back to the shop entrance the girl disappeared to. Orphaned only in the dappled light of the café window are her abandoned loafers and apron.

He isn’t sure what spurs him forward, has him brave the minute in the downpour to get to the other side, but suddenly he’s there, picking up the articles of clothing and walking into the small café. The small bell announces his entry and the laughter he walks into quiets as the girl and her coworker stare across the counter at the sudden appearance of an unfamiliar customer.

Bede stares back, scrambling for a coherent set of words, for some sort of explanation as to why he was holding her clothes, but in the end, he didn’t have to.

As her coworker gives the generic “Welcome to Café—” the girl exclaims, “my shoes!” as she hops across the counter, sliding towards him. Her black skirt rises just enough to make Bede avert his eyes as he extends his arm with her apparel.

“You left these outside.” He manages to mumble, absolutely hating the blush creeping up his cheeks. 

She snatches the items from his grasp, quickly pulling one shoe on after the other, giving a small tap to adjust the fit, before wrapping the apron around her half-drowned body with a wide grin on her face. “I can’t believe I didn’t even notice. Thank you for bringing them inside.”

Bede nods, running a hand through his tangled curls. “Why you even took them off is a complete mystery to me, but it didn’t seem worth leaving perfectly good shoes outside just because their owner was irresponsible.”

In response, the girl’s smile seems to only get wider. “Well, let me show you my appreciation.” The comment is followed by a gentle push and a shove as Bede is herded to a seat by the window. Standing at the table, the girl pulls out a dry notepad and pen from her apron and chirps, “My name is Gloria and I’ll be your waitress today. So, what can I get you?”

_Gloria_. Bede crosses his arms and leans back in the wooden chair. “I don’t even know what you have, where’s the men—”

“A Glory Special, coming right up.” She interrupts, immediately turning on her heels to walk towards the front coffee shop counter, where her coworker stares, no correction, _glares _daggers at him from across her shoulder. Bede watches as the boy reaches for the notepad as if she actually took his order, but the girl dances, steps out of his reach and gets to work on whatever a “Glory Special” is.__

__With her absence, Bede takes in the quaint environment of the small coffee shop. The furniture is worn and solid, old but not quite decrepit. Each item is antique, hugged by the golden light and warm scents of the room. The mixed scents of herbal tea dance on the sharper notes of cinnamon and espresso creating a symphony. It’s calming and comfortable, a hidden pocket of the bustling city outside._ _

__On any other day, he would have just walked by. That is, if it wasn’t for her._ _

__Behind the counter, she moves to her own rhythm as her coworker moves and maneuvers out of her way. An offbeat whistle sounds occasionally through her teeth as she fixes his drink, grinding the espresso beans, and deftly placing the arm into the machine, her eyes as dark as the espresso that drips into the waiting tin below._ _

__As he watches her focus on her tasks, she looks up to meet his own lavender eyes, and smiles. And Bede immediately turns away, breaking the eye contact. A feeling like honey sweetens and turns in his stomach and his mouth goes dry at the thought of that smile, the way her lips curved, the way her eyes crinkled…_ _

__“And here you are.” A large polka-dotted mug on an ill-proportioned mug is placed in front of him as Gloria slides into the seat across from him. Steam rises from the concoction with an aroma of sharp smelling spices and coffee hidden under the cover of steamed milk and a delicate cinnamon powdered heart._ _

__Bede stares down at the drink, then back at the girl. She was drier now, her hair flipped in every which way direction, but dry. Sweeping her bangs aside, she leans over the table watching, waiting expectantly._ _

__“Well?”_ _

__“Well, what?” He challenges._ _

__Gloria tilts her head, “Aren’t you going to try it?”_ _

__“I don’t even know what it is.” He crosses his arms and leans back. “And I don’t drink coffee.”_ _

__“It’s not coffee, it’s a Glory Special, or a Taste of Glory.” She points at the drink lazily. “I’m still workshopping the name, but the point is, it’s _delicious._.”_ _

__Bede looks at the drink, then at the girl, and back at the drink again. With a big resigned sigh, he picks up the large cup and takes one tentative sip. And the drink tastes like her, her energy, everything he witnesses as she danced in the rain boiled down to one warm cup._ _

__“It’s ok.” He shrugs.  
The girl across from him rolls her eyes and shakes her head, getting to her feet. “Listen, what’s your name?”_ _

__“That’s none of your business.” He states calmly, taking another sip._ _

__“Ok, Mr. None of Your Business, I’ll tell you what. Come in here whenever you want and I’ll give it another go until we get it right.” She holds out her hand._ _

__For a minute Bede stares at her extended hand, the way the delicate fingers were marked with red and pink, band-aids in all the inconvenient places, and nods, taking her hand in the shake. “Fine, next time maybe you’ll actually impress me. But I doubt it.”_ _

__His remark seems only to make her laugh. “Deal.”_ _

__As Bede waits for the rain to dissipate, he sips at his large mug. The taste rolls on his tongue, and tugs at a feeling in his chest he doesn’t have a name for quite yet. It remains elusive, on the verge of the next sip, and the one after that._ _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for taking the time to read!   
> Anyways, hopefully, I somehow (still) remain prompt for this week's worth of challenges. 
> 
> Find me at the following to scream your Bederia feelings:  
> [tumblr](mochirimi.tumblr.com)  
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/mochirimi)


End file.
